Anything Goes
by SalvatoreQuinn
Summary: "Is it possible to let him go even though I love him more than I love myself?" I was nineteen, madly in love and quite a bit stupid when I proposed to Elena. She said yes, obviously. And now, four years later, I would do anything to be single and divorced from that one woman who manages to bring out the worst in me every time I see her face. / M-RATED for a reason!
1. Chapter 1

**AN; **SC and FwB will soon be updated too! I haven't had much time  
or fantasy to write for a couple of months but now I'm on an  
updating spree so stay tuned! =)

**Anything goes**  
Chapter one

Damon's POV

I sigh heavily and throw a bunch of dollars on top of the bar as I sit down.

"Where's that pretty wife of yours?" Joe asks discreetly and scratches the back of his baldhead.

Joe, the guy who owns the place – looks at me with raised eyebrows and I shrug tiredly. He knows my story pretty well by now and hands me a tumbler and a bottle of bourbon – out of habit, I'm sure. I want to snicker at the irony of the entire situation but I don't. He knows I'm married because Elena's been picking me up a couple of times. Joe searched through my phone the night I drank myself into pure darkness and called the first person I had listed as ICE.

She had burst through the door twenty minutes later and she'd scolded me so badly that I thought my ears were to fall off. She'd thanked Joe and he'd helped her to get me inside the car. I guess I was pretty heavy for her to carry on her own - I could barely walk on my own.

I had puke in the front seat and she'd cursed me beyond comprehension.

Unlucky for me, she'd forced me to clean the entire car the morning after and let me tell you – it sucked.

"Don't know. Don't care." I shrug and gulp down the bourbon.

It burns in the back of my throat but as of right now, it's exactly what I need. I need to feel something. Anything – as long as it's not connected to Elena.

"Alright." Joe sighs and leaves me alone at my usual spot.

I got into a nasty fight with my _beloved_ wife. Yup, I'm married and miserable.

Normally this time of night I'm sleeping in the guest room – in my own house I might add – but not tonight. Scratch that, I haven't slept in my bedroom for three months because Elena is occupying ? Because she's the girl. The female. So it's like an unwritten rule that she's the one who doesn't have to move out of the enormous, lofty, gorgeous bedroom._ Who made all these stupid rules?_

I was nineteen, madly in love and quite a bit stupid when I proposed to Elena. She said yes, obviously. And now, four years later, I would do anything to be single and divorced from that one woman who manages to bring out the worst in me every time I see her face. I can't remember the last time she actually smiled at me or talked to me without that frown being present on her face. Somehow, I manage to piss her off no matter what I say. It's driving me crazy.

So what started tonight's fight you might ask? Honestly, I don't know.

We just fight. It's what we do and I can't remember the last time I felt happy about going home from work. It's a fucking disaster.

But I won't lie, I was happy in the early state of our relationship but somehow everything just went downhill after we got married and had to grow up for real.

I guess you could say that we fell apart and started to lie to one another. We had always been honest with each other and when one lie expanded to a hundred lies - things were doomed. We started fighting and in the beginning we forgave each other and said that 'we'd start over'. Things were unicorns and flowers for a couple of days and then boom – things got ruined with the flip of a coin.

We stopped talking to each other, we stopped kissing, we stopped touching, we stopped making love. I spent more hours at work than what was necessarily needed. We started to take shortcuts in our own home because we couldn't stand to be in the same room. It sounds crazy but it's my deprived reality whether I like it or not.

Somehow, we accepted it. We accepted the disturbing behavior and didn't think twice about the things we said to each other, we didn't care if our words hurt the other. We knew that we were on the verge of falling apart and I didn't care enough to fix the space between us and neither did Elena.

I can't blame her for not fighting to destroy the space between us though - I wasn't easy to handle – I never have been and I never will be. But Elena knows how to push my buttons and our fights are getting worse and worse, so I fled the house and got in my car and ended up at 'Joe's'.

It's not that difficult to understand that I'm here in order to get laid. Sometimes I just need a woman to look at me without the annoying gaze of hurt and anger. Sometimes I just want someone to appreciate me without the fighting. I'm planning to find a willing lady to spend the night with, preferably at her place – because I doubt that Elena would be happy if she woke up to find her husband with another woman.

She knows I'm cheating on her. She knows I'm fucking other women since I'm not fucking her. However, I know she's cheating on me too and like I said earlier, I can't really blame her - I guess she's got needs to.

I pour myself another glass of bourbon and leave my seat to walk across the room. I've spotted a blonde in one of the corners, she's sitting alone in her booth and she's been ogling me since the second I entered the bar. My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it.

"Is this seat taken?" I smirk and wiggle my eyebrows.

"No." She giggles and slides further into the booth.

She instantly starts to cling on me and I know that within an hour, I'll be in a stranger's bed, thrusting into a woman who's not my wife - thrusting into a woman who's not Elena and I don't even care.

* * *

Elena's POV

It's 5 am. I've been awake for three hours – stupid nightmares. And to be honest I couldn't go back to sleep knowing that Damon didn't come home last night, even if I really wanted to just erase him from my thoughts.

We might be a married couple – but we act far from it. If our friends and families could see us half of the time we spend together – then they'd be shocked.

I can't remember the last time we touched out of love or passion. He's got a temper I barely know how to handle anymore. We are falling apart, crashing towards the ocean and the saddest part? _We don't care._

We used to be so in love. We had it all. We used to be like fire and rain. Whenever I started burning, he managed to calm me down with that husky voice of his. He used to be everything I needed, everything I wanted but that changed so quickly that I barely had the chance to notice it.

I don't even remember when things went so out of control. There are days when I look at myself in the mirror and I don't recognize the person looking back at me. When did I turn into such a raging bitch? When did we stop loving each other? I ask myself if there was something we did wrong but I can't find an answer. We just fell out of love.

I just woke up one morning feeling empty and lonely even though he stood right beside me. At some point we stopped making love – it felt as if the fire between us had been drowned in water. The cheating begun shortly after we stopped having sex. I'm not sure if I was the first one to cheat on my partner or if Damon beat me to it.

When we stood in the church, reading our vows out loud – I made a silent promise to be true to my husband for as long as forever goes – Damon made the same promise. See how well that turned out – we are so fucked up.

I sit up in bed, knowing that I need to take a shower and wash away the touch of another man before going to the store.

I work at the flower shop and Mrs. Lockwood is one demanding woman. Besides my dictator of a boss, I do like my job.

Decorating bouquets is fun and it gives me other, happier things to think about than my failed marriage.

* * *

Damon's POV

I wake up in a stranger's bed the next morning. _Fuck. _When did I fall asleep? I usually leave as fast as possible. I'm tired and hung-over. My head feels like it's exploding over and over again - I have a headache from hell. The sunlight sting my eyes and I groan quietly.

I smell the scent of sweet cheap perfume. I take a look over my shoulder and see the blonde who's sleeping right next to me and remember last night, though most of it is a blur. Heck, I don't even remember her name and even if I did, I wouldn't use it.

Should I feel guilty? Probably – but I don't feel anything. I don't feel guilty. I don't feel like a cheating husband. I don't feel a thing.

I pull a hand through my hair and sit up. I search for my clothes on the woman's bedroom floor and check my phone while I'm pulling up my jeans. A text from Elena - asking me whether I'm dead or not - light up my screen and I type a quick and short reply. I continue to get dressed and stare at the naked, sleeping blonde before I shake my head at my own thoughts. _Nope, not even going there._

I leave her apartment and at first I have a hard time remembering which way to go in order to get back to Joe's bar. It's 5 am and the city is already wild awake with honking cars and people running their daily rounds. I move forward and thankfully, my car is still waiting for me outside the bar and I sigh tiredly. I don't feel like going home before work but I'm in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes.

Going home means dealing with Elena's _'every day fury'_and I'm not sure my head is up for it this morning.

However, if I'm lucky, she might still be asleep and I can walk in and out without any trouble whatsoever.

I'm not afraid of my own wife - I just can't stand to fight with her all the time. And believe me, we fight all the freaking time. She's driving me absolutely crazy whenever she opens her mouth and it's annoying the crap out of me. I don't know how many times I have packed my duffel bag, ready to leave for good. I always manage to remember that it's my house too. It's my home as much as it's hers and I can't leave - not permanently.

I park my car beside Elena's red mini cooper - remembering the fact that I bought her that car and roll my eyes at the irony. She'd had me wrapped around her finger the minute I first laid my eyes on her.

But instead of going down memory lane I get out of the car. I yawn as I unlock the front door.

Our house was a wedding present from our families. Living in Denver isn't great – but there's one perk of living here though. Our families live in Atlanta and they don't have the time to visit us that often. Which means, that we don't have to fake a successful marriage in front of them.

"What the fuck, Elena." I groan as I walk into our kitchen.

There are a couple of empty wine bottles and a pair of glasses on top of the counter. So she managed to entertain herself last night. I grimace – I guess I'm not the only one who's been moaning loudly throughout the night. This is so typical Elena. She fucks them inside our house and it's almost shocking to admit it, but I barely give a fuck – as long as I don't have to cook the guy breakfast in the morning.

Even though I don't blame her for spreading her legs I'm still pissed off that she can't clean up after herself. The mess is too much for me to handle this early in the morning so I flee and steer my feet to the bathroom beside the guest room. I'm quick to dislodge my clothes and throw them in the washing machine before getting in the shower. The water is hot against my skin and I try to relax, my muscles feel tense after the last couple of days.

I wash my hair and soak my dick with shampoo, massaging it slowly. Mr. Dick himself stands up on command but I'm not up for it right now. I'm too mad at Elena and the way she's messing up our silent agreement.

* * *

"You look awful."

"Thanks Dave. Elena's been on my ass this morning and I don't need you to throw more shit at me. Okay?"

"Oh. Touchy subject." Dave sits down in on of the armchairs. "What did you do this time? I mean, seriously Damon, you need to get your shit together."

"Easy for you to say. You're not married."

"I'm just saying... As a friend... You and Elena are a terrible match."

"Can't disagree with you about that." I mutter.

The rest of the day goes by slowly and my headache is not helping. I drink more coffee than what is probably good for you and the caffeine is making me feel a little bit more energized – I'm going to need it if I plan on surviving the rest of the day.

* * *

"There's a plate of lasagna for you in the microwave." She meets my gaze and breaks the contact between us in order to continue to spread her notes over the kitchen island.

"Great." I mutter tiredly.

"You're welcome." She snorts.

I almost bite my tongue in order to keep my mouth shut but it's impossible. I just have to spew out something mean. I swear it's like a freaking disease and the venom is quickly spreading with every vocal sound she utters.

"Did you have a good day?"

"As if you actually care." She retorts.

"Exactly."

And so it begins.

.

_Five minutes later  
_

"I can't do this anymore." She yells at me. "Get the fuck out! Now!"

Sometimes I feel really bad for our neighbors – they must've heard us fight at least once. It's a miracle they haven't called the police yet. Some days it might sound as if we are actually trying to kill each other. And some days I look at Elena and feel the hatred roll of off her in waves.

I clench my jaw and plaster a fake grin onto my face. My patience is long gone by now and so is the calm demeanor I'd shouldered earlier at work. I feel like grabbing the turquoise, horribly ugly vase to my left and throw it to the ground. I feel like trashing the entire kitchen. My anger is so overwhelming that I pant in frustration.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" She questions, arms crossed above her chest.

"It's my house too! You're free to leave at any second."

"I want you out. Just leave. I don't want to see you."

"Likewise. Pack a bag and get out. I'm sure you can stay with Caroline. She'll be happy about this. She's always hated me." I snort and remember some very unfunny moments with Miss Forbes present in our lives.

That freaking Barbie even tried to hijack our honeymoon! Who does that?

"Can you blame her?" Elena shrieks. "You're an ass! You've never treated her with respect!"

_True. _I shrug. I don't give a flying fuck.

"That blonde Barbie doesn't even deserve my respect!" I say to her. I mean it and my wife knows it.

Elena pulls her hands through her hair and walks out of the kitchen. Aha.

Great. 'Perfect', I think to myself. Here we go again. Whenever things get spiced up Elena disappears immediately – but I'm not going to let her flee this time. I'm tired of her running whenever things get ruff. I'm tired of the wheel we're constantly spinning in. It goes round, round, round and nothing – NOTHING – ever gets solved.

"You always do that." I say with an irritated voice and follow her out into the living room.

"What?" She stops and turns around.

She gives me a furious glare, a glare that almost kills me from the inside out. Her brown doe eyes are black with unresolved anger and I step forward. I move so close to her that I can feel her breath on my lips.

"You shut down. You just walk away and I'd say that's because of you and your annoying fear of conflict – this it's your fault. It's your fault that we are here in the first place."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to go to jail." She threatens.

"For what?" I quip and raise my eyebrows as if to piss her off.

"For murdering you in your sleep!"

"Blame it all on me, Elena! That's what you do! That's what you always do! But deep down, you know that we have fallen apart… all because of you and that's why you walk around with an expression of shame on your face. So if you're going to blame someone – blame yourself."

SMACK!

To my big surprise she had raised her hand and my head had snapped to the left as her tiny, soft palm had collide with my face.

That was a first. Elena had never ever slapped me before. I stare back at her, my mouth ready to fall open in utter shock. At first she seems to be shocked at her own behavior but the glimpse of remorse disappear quickly.

That was the absolute, last fucking drop – my goblet overflow.

She turns around in order to flee upstairs. _Not this time, princess._

I grab her by the arm and spin her around. My lips crash onto hers within seconds and I breathe her in. The familiar scent of strawberries and vanilla fill my nostrils.

At first she's like a statue in my arms until the second she decides to let go of everything. This is not love. It's not passion. It not sex. It's fucking. It's raw and animalistic like.

I'm quick to back her up against the wall and lift her up, placing my hips between her spread legs. The black pencil skirt bursts at the seams. I fumble with my hands as she pulls at my belt. I hold her up against the wall as my hands roam her body. Our mouths are fighting for dominance. She sucks my lower lip into her mouth and I nip her with my teeth. She groans and grabs the back of my head, raking her fingers through my dark hair.

This is angry sex. The kind of sex you only imagine in your wildest dreams. We've had drunken sex, reconciliation sex, happy sex, passionate sex – we've had all of it – except angry sex.

I have to have her. I have to take her - hard - painfully hard. I have to claim her as mine.

And I do. The moment I slam into her, our eyes meet for a second or two. Her body welcomes me and her muscles clench around my shaft. My body recognizes hers even though I don't want to feel the connection between us.

I can't even remember the last time I was inside her.

I thrust my hips forward and upwards. As of right now I don't care if she reaches her peak or not – it's not about our pleasure. It's about anger, madness and betrayal.

As our bodies slam into each other I move backwards. Somehow, we end up on the floor – just in front of the stairs. Elena tangles her legs around my waist, grabbing my buttocks as I thrust into her with all my pent up emotions. I'm still mad as hell and need to make her hurt the way I'm currently hurting.

I suck at her neck, grabbing her hands, holding her down. I press her to the floor with my weight and she groans. I don't know if she groans out of pleasure or discomfort. All I know is that I don't care. I don't have the energy or the power to care about none of it – and I don't want to.

The only sound spreading throughout the house is our desperate gasps and the sweaty sound of the two bodies coupling and slamming into one another.

I pull out and slam into her without remorse and I feel her tense underneath me. She's close – I know her body as if it were my own – I recognize the small things that will eventually set her off.

I don't want to care but I do – unmercifully. As if on autopilot I move my hips and roll them in a different angle. She cries out and for a moment I forget that I'm so mad at her that I barely remember how to function properly. I still know her body as if it were a custom made instrument for me and it feels beyond tragic.

I know that this is the last time. I know that this is a maddening goodbye. We are letting go for the last time. We have to. It's the only option and I feel certain about it.

Elena starts to lift her hips to meet mine and soon, we reach oblivion together. I fill her up as my dick pulsates in a pure orgasmic state. She whimpers and I bury my face in the crook of her neck as I come violently. It almost hurts.

I pant on top of her and she breathes heavily under me.

We stay still until Elena pushes me off of her and quietly leaves me with my jeans hanging low around my ankles. I pull a hand through my hair and slam my fist into the wall behind me.

Emotions are running wild inside me and it's frightening – maddening even. My brain bursts into flames as I think of all the different ways I could've handled this. What is going through Elena's mind? Is she as shocked and mind blown as I am? How the fuck would I ever know? I should know her by now but I don't.

Even though I'm not certain about her thoughts – I still know that she knows too. _We're over._

I button my jeans and pull a hand through my hair. All I know as of right now – is that I need air, because I can't breathe. It's like I'm choking and my chest contorts with pain. I head out through the backdoor and lean against the brick wall. I force myself to take deep breaths as I hyperventilate. After a couple of minutes I stand up tall and see the neighbors kids standing on their porch – staring at me as if I'm a fucking movie star.

Christie, the youngest of the girls wave at me and giggle quietly. I wave back effortlessly before I get into my car.

I have no idea where the hell I'm going. I can't face Elena right now and she won't want to see me either. The best thing is to stay away for at least a couple days until I have a permanently place to stay at.

* * *

Elena's POV

I stare up at him and feel as if someone just threw a bucket of ice-cold water over me. Judging by his facial expression – he feels the same way.

I hold my breath – afraid of moving. He's still deep inside me and suddenly - I panic. Being in his arms feels so disgustingly wrong. I push him off of me and disappear up the stairs. My tears fall before I even reach the bathroom. I slam the door and walk straight into the shower. I pull off my white shirt and the remnants of my outfit.

I cringe in despair as I feel the sticky liquid that slowly flows down between my thighs. I bite my lip, trying to keep my sobs low and unnoticeable.

My body starts convulsing and without thinking about it I bend over and empty the contents of my stomach on the floor.

I can't think straight and slump down against the cold tiles. The water is soaking me now but I don't feel like moving. I don't even think I can move. I feel as if I can't walk or even wash myself properly – so I stay right where I am – for minutes, for hours. I don't even know.

I know that what happened so fiercely between us, probably happened for the last time. I can't help myself and sob louder than before. It's over. We're over for good. I just know it. I felt it. He felt it. I'm sure of it.

I feel hollow, broken and stupid but at the same time… I feel as if a weight has been lift of off my shoulders. It's over. It's over. Over.

We are over.

**Please review &amp; favorite! =)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN; IMPORTANT!** Some of you are horribly rude.  
I have every intention to finish this story and I want it to be a good one.  
But I also have a life outside of the internet. So, calm down with the rude reviews.  
I can't promise a new chapter next week or maybe even the next month - so bare with me  
if you really like the story.

I have **bipolar disorder** and I've been on and off my meds lately, because they made me terribly sick.  
So don't throw mean words at someone who loves writing but have been too sick to actually get out of bed  
in order to take care of herself as a normal - self-functioning person. Treat everyone with respect - no matter what.

/Quinn

* * *

8 weeks later

She woke up to the sound of something she'd never thought she'd ever hear again. At first, she thought she was dreaming very vividly but somehow, the sound continued to find its way to her ears – slowly convincing her that she wasn't imagining things. Quietly, she got dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. She didn't want to miss this for anything in the world. Her heart swelled with love once she heard his voice. It leaped in her chest and she had to bit her lip in order to stop herself from calling out his name.

She made it halfway down the stairs before she stopped at the sight in the living room. He was playing his guitar. He was playing on his black acoustic guitar – the guitar she'd bought him on his twentieth birthday. She'd saved money and worked extra shifts just to be able to buy it for him. He was playing the guitar she'd bought him and on top of it all, he was playing _their song_.

The raspy voice felt like velvet to her ears. He sounded amazing and for a second – she recognized the man she'd fallen in love with, once. She felt safe as the goose bumps spread across her arms and the rest of her body hummed in satisfaction and peace.

A couple of tears streamed down her cheek as she slowly sat down in the middle of the stairs. She put a hand above her heart as his playing made her emotional. He hadn't played his guitar for over two years and still, his fingers moved with automatically ease. Elena could hear the strain and soreness in his voice – but it was still breathtakingly beautiful to hear him use his voice to other things than fights and sour, dirty words.

When he hit the peak of the song, he slowed down his playing and simply plucked the strings in the right order before playing the chords once again. God how she'd missed it.

There was something about him – whenever he played… It felt as if all the earlier mistakes and mean words didn't hold such a great part of her heart anymore. She bit her lower lip as she allowed her tears to fall more freely – quietly - almost peacefully.

For a second, everything felt as it was supposed to be this way, this easy. All she wanted was to run down the stairs and find her way into his arms, hoping he would embrace her and never let go. Kiss her passionately, make love to her, promise that everything would be just fine – as long as they loved each other with everything they had.

Elena felt herself smile softly as she saw him get up from the sofa with a more or less – determined look. She recognized the concentrated frown upon his face – it suited him. The frown was one of inner peace – not anger, hurt or the echo of their fights. He got lost in the music and she could feel the magic knock on their front door. He continued to play and she could easily hear the inner relaxation as he started humming on another song.

The fact that everything he did was so familiar to what he'd once been - almost crushed her little piece of hope. Why was he playing? There had to be a reason, right? She didn't want to think about the reasons behind his guitar playing behavior – she just wanted to enjoy it.

Even though it scared her – quite a bit - she was glad to see him in such a good mood. It was Saturday morning and he was home, sober and playing his guitar while slowly pacing back and forth in the living room. What dimension had she'd been sent to? She scolded herself and tried not to think more about the reasons behind his unusual way of acting.

As he started playing 'pour some sugar on me', by Def Leppard – Elena smiled and shook her head as memories hit her like a brick wall being thrown into a window.

The first time he'd played that song for her, had been on their first date. He'd brought her to a picnic in the park and as she'd sipped on her coke, he'd played his guitar for her. He'd tried to teach her some easy chords but she'd failed miserably and he'd smirked at her to try it on more time as he helped her place the fingers on the right strings. She'd told him to give up on her and he'd tilted his head, kissed her lightly on the lips and whispered '_never'._ He'd promised never to give up on her. It stung as she thought about it.

She briefly closed her eyes before she turned her head to lay eyes on him as he continued to walk around the living room. Before everything changed for the worse – he used to sing and play the guitar – always in the living room. The pacing back and forth was something he'd used to do when he first met her. She'd found it quite cute – because he really disappeared into the music and she could really see the fire in his eyes.

He was gifted but had never pursued his dreams due to not wanting to work with something he loved so much. If he would be forced to work with music every day, he wouldn't be able to stop, listen and appreciate it as much as he did.

She tried to hide in the dark stairs. Not that hiding seemed to be necessary – Damon was focused – solely – on what he was doing. He seemed to be so carefree. Not a worry in the world on his shoulders – weighing him down.

She couldn't stop her brain from starting to think about everything. What had changed over night? Was this a first sign of him having a meltdown or something? Was he about to go all freaky and mad - or perhaps, a very, very early midlife crisis? She hadn't seen this side of him for almost two years and somehow it really baffled her. She had a hard time to comprehend what was actually happening in their living room.

Maybe that night all those weeks ago, had actually affected them? They rarely screamed at each other, nor did they talk. But hey, no talking was way better than screaming at each other all the time. They still hadn't talked about that night – nor did she want to either. They'd been like passing ships in the night.

Everything was finally feeling as if things could become better. Maybe she was holding on to hope with all she was worth – or maybe she didn't have the nerve to actually accept that they'd finally had the courage to break things between them. Maybe the peaceful atmosphere had walked into their lives after breaking things up?

"Pour some sugar on me… Over me… In the name of love…"

Elena tilted her head as she crossed her arms and hugged her knees. He was dressed in black jeans, his regular boots and a black t-shirt – probably a John Varvatos. His raven-colored hair was a complete mess – just the way she'd always loved it. It was perfectly tousled and his blue eyes were as wild as the Pacific Ocean.

Oh, how she loved him. Her heart ached at the thought.

As she sat there in silence, watching him do something he loved – a part of her heart started burning, yearning, wondering, worrying. The man she loved wasn't gone – he'd been buried for a long time but somewhere beneath all the sand, shit and hurtful words – the Damon she'd once loved still existed. A spark of hope ignited warmth inside her chest. She closed her eyes and simply listened to the sound of vocal and instrument mixed together.

She'd missed the simplicity of listening to him. It felt bittersweet. The song would end as soon as he stopped singing and she wouldn't be able to stay in the bubble she currently wanted them to be in.

He stopped singing the second he laid his eyes on her. The music died and not a word was spoken out loud. Elena pulled a hand through her hair, uncertain of what to do. His eyes bore themselves into hers and her heart leapt away for a second – of fear, guilt or hope – she didn't know.

"Elena."

"You woke me."

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay." She said quickly. "I'm glad I heard you."

He nodded silently and absently looked around the living room.

"I can't even remember the last time I heard you play." She tried to smile but failed miserably. "I felt safe."

"Doesn't look like it." He motioned at her wet face.

"It's good tears." She whispered. "When you played, I recognized you and I realized how much I've missed you. How much I've missed this part of you."

"This is a part I always carry with me."

"Yeah, but you rarely show it." She wiped a couple of her tears.

"Well, whose fault is that?" He asked.

"I miss you." She had to say it. He had to know.

"Elena," He closed his eyes for a second. "I can't."

"So you're ready to let me go?" Her lower lip quivered as she stared at her feet, unable to face him. Minutes passed in silence and then…

"No."

At that, she – finally – slowly, looked up at him. There was a raging storm inside his blue eyes - a category five hurricane – causing chaos.

"It's like gravity always pulls me towards you, no matter how much I try to fight against it. It screws me up, because we are screwed up and I have no fucking idea on how to fix it. Not a single clue. You've screwed up, I've screwed up and I don't know it we can be fixed. Maybe we are a lost cause, but still, I can't walk away."

"Me neither." She gulped and looked into his blue orbs. "I don't think there's a cure for us."

Damon followed Elena's moves and sat down in the stairs, a couple of steps between them, he had to look up at her as she spoke to him.

"When you…" She gulped, looking down at her hands as if collecting courage to finish her sentence. "When you look into your future – five, ten years from now – what do you see?"

Elena forced herself to face him and shivered, as he never broke their eye contact and spoke directly to her.

"When I look into my future, all I see is you."

* * *

Thanks for taking the time to read!


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Short one – but you guys deserved an update!  
Bipolar disorder is still a big disability but I'm hanging in there and I'm  
still fighting =)

* * *

She hadn't touched her piano in weeks - months even. She used to play and sing. She wasn't the next Celine or Mariah but she loved lyrics that meant something to her. While others listened to the whole of a track – Elena got lost in the meaning of the lyrics and the emotional tidal wave it sometimes managed to create inside her.

Elena touched the keys and let her fingertips move across them in ease. She played with closed eyes – her hands moving on their own.

"It might be hard to be lovers," She sang quietly and tried to find the right sound on the keys in front of her.

It had been years since she wrote a song. She usually wrote every day but when they'd gotten married and things started to fall apart – she'd lost the touch of the beauty it possessed. The piano had even started to collect dust on top and she felt sad when she thought about it. She'd abandoned her biggest passion without blinking. Music had been the center of her entire life when she'd first met Damon and as he'd claimed more space – the magic of writing music slowly drifted into space.

She stopped and took a deep breath as the sound died around her. It felt quite useless to spend her time creating what she loved most. She'd been quite amazed when Damon picked up his guitar three days in a row last week. They'd never mentioned it or talked to each other – so once she was alone – she decided to give it a try. If the music could find its way back to Damon – maybe her spark could be reignited again too.

Elena glanced over her shoulder and convinced herself that none was home at the moment. The last thing she wanted was a crowd. She played the same intro again and again – changing certain parts every now and then – slightly critical to her own creation.

"It might be hard to be lovers but it's harder to be friends. Baby, pull down the covers – it's time you let me in. Maybe light a couple candles and I will…"

She sighed. It didn't sound right. It was as if she couldn't even find the words to describe what she felt – maybe because she didn't know what went through her mind at the moment. She tried again.

"Maybe light a couple candles and I'll…" She grimaced. "Blow them out. Urgh."

She sighed heavily and cleared her throat, ready to give it another try.

"Maybe light a couple candles and I'll just go…" She slowly closed her eyes and started from the top. "But it's harder to be friends. Baby, pull down the covers – its time you let me in."

No use. She gave up for the day and scribbled down the current lyrics on a piece of paper she had lying on top of the piano. As she walked away and left the room behind a feeling of contempt found her and soothed her for a second or two.

* * *

Damon yawned as he walked through the living room. It had been a long day at the office and he was tired – beat. He turned around and grabbed a beer from the kitchen before seating himself in front of the TV. 1.43am and the house was quiet. He knew Elena was asleep already and forced his selfish side not to grab the guitar from one of the corners.

His fingers itched with the power and lust for creative imagination. It had felt so good to pick up the guitar and sing his way out of some of the misery he'd felt for so long. He'd almost managed not to grimace at his wife – for days.

It felt as if they balanced on a thin plate of glass. Elena went to the left and he barely knew how to stop them from falling to the ground. Elena wasn't easy to live with – nor was he but that discussion never got them anywhere. It always ended with the two of them going their separate ways and none of them cared enough to stop the other from leaving.

Or maybe they did care – maybe - it was just the fear of being rejected and crushed if giving it a solid chance – that stopped them. Both were sore losers and had a hard time admitting when they'd been wrong. She claimed to hate him – and she did – passionately.

But lately they'd been quite around each other. None had mentioned the word divorce and Damon refused to bring it up. Elena was a bomb that could go off at any given second and he didn't feel like arguing every day. He wanted peace and quiet – though it probably wouldn't last more than a day or two.

He wanted to ask her – 'where do we stand? What do you want? What should we do?'

As crazy as it was – he was afraid of the answer she might give him. He didn't feel ready to hear the words she probably wanted to throw in his face. There were so many things he wanted to say, too. Something held him back and he feared that his emotional side would get in the way of letting her and everything else go.

He hadn't been with another woman for almost two weeks and somehow he wondered whether or not Elena had been with another man. He wasn't jealous – just, curious. He'd been taking everything at a slower pace than what was natural for him but Elena had basically been the opposite. She'd been very energetic but quiet all the same.

She was a mystery – he knew that and when he'd first met her she'd been smiling nervously as he'd approached her. She'd been so innocent back then. But Damon knew, that behind the nervous laughter – a strong and beautiful young woman had blossomed. She'd been so driven and ready to go for whatever it was that she wanted at the moment. He'd admired that side of her and to be honest – he still did.

He sighed as he got up and sat down in front of the piano. He carefully touched the keys and pressed lightly at one. He could see the thin layer of dust covering the top and his eyes wandered to what seemed to be a piece of paper. He took a sip from his beer as he slowly scanned the words scribbled on the paper in his hands.

_'It might be hard to be lovers but it's harder to be friends. Baby, pull down the covers – it's time you let me in. Maybe light a couple candles and I will…'_

Clearly, Elena had been writing again. He was surprised to say the least. He read the words and sentences all over again. Memorizing the way they flowed easily. Her grabbed the piece of sheet notes and could see that Elena had started to write music to what he thought was only a piece of irritation. She usually created music when she felt free as a bird and certain about life – not when see was mad and in the middle of a possible divorce.

He wasn't as good at playing the piano as Elena was but he still managed to slowly play the intro and blinked a couple of times. The lyrics were absolutely magical together with the music, yet it was just a few sentences. He sighed and gritted his teeth. He played it again and again.

And every single time he played it, an emotion of hope ignited inside him and he tried to shake it but was unable to succeed. He grabbed one of the pencils and thought about scribbling down another couple of words in order to continue the song but didn't feel like ruining Elena's creative way of handling the chaos in her – their – lives.

By now it was 2.00 am and he could feel how his body demanded sleep and other nourishments than beer. Damon had almost made it to the guest room when he decided to turn around. He quickly found his way in to the living room. He walked over to the piano and scribbled down what had been present in his mind since the first time he'd played Elena's new song.

_'It might be hard to be lovers but it's harder to be friends. Baby, pull down the covers – it's time you let me in. Maybe light a couple candles and… _I'll just go ahead and lock the door. If you just talk to me baby. Till we ain't strangers anymore.'

* * *

**AN: **The next chapter will contain a trip to their hometown - in order to see their families. Watch out for drama as the chapter will be a long one!**  
**The song is sung by LeAnn Rimes and Bon Jovi and is called – till we ain't stranger anymore.  
**Be kind enough to leave a review.**


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